


Days

by BluBoi



Series: Apocalypse AU [3]
Category: Non-Fandom - Fandom
Genre: Depression, Grief, Loss, Other, Sad, alternative universe, this is the other side of things were Sam died and Lory was left alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 12:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17704346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluBoi/pseuds/BluBoi
Summary: Sometimes..days were lonely.





	Days

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Alternative Universe to my Apoc one, where instead of Sam losing Lory it occurred the other way around..
> 
>  
> 
> Take a read, leave some feedback-  
> And I'm always taking questions about many of my bois (and a whole heap of new ones who I haven't written fics about. On my tumblr! @CorruptedCodex - Small warning for randowm nsfw and kink occasionally my blogs a mess.)

Sometimes, Waking up was easy.  
A hot shower to open up the lungs, clean away the grips of sleep. A nice breakfast, spent eating at the counter, watching some old re-running sitcom. 

Though, some mornings, more than they would wish to admit. Waking up was hard. Where the tug of exhaustion lingered despite being fully rested. The blanket felt like the only comfort against the uncomfortable dull pangs resonating in their chest. 

Rolling over, tossing, turning. Attempting to think about something to bring on a healthy mood. Though it wasn't often it worked. Sometimes, there was just enough will to get to the shower and leave in a reasonable time..others, they sat, watching the little beads of water run down the steam coated glass.  
Others, they simply didn't get up, at least not until the clock had long since past twelve and their body ached to move. Time blurring. The undying growl of their stomach becoming enough to force them up and in search of an easy meal. Usually, a piece of fruit, a glass of something, often milk, and some other little snack if they found anything tempting. 

Then it was to the couch, where their legs were curled up, resting heavy head against knees. Gaze unfocused. Either too engaged in the show or ignoring it altogether. 

They felt too aware of the silence, of their lack of productivity. Ears folded against their head. Their tail limply around their feet.  
Fingers absentmindedly ran across the bandages around their right arm in a hopeless attempt at comfort, which only brought on thoughts of bittersweet sadness. 

The house would grow dark, a nap phased in here and there, though really there was not much difference between awake and asleep when the numbness lingered all the same. 

If they were lucky, they were able to cry- to feel..something. Trying to ignore the urges to ruin their flesh with a blade they knew all too well.  
However..that urge often won. 

Beads of crimson would slowly cascade along flesh before forming a drop, gravity tugging it down to splatter against the smooth white marble of the sink.  
Tears pinched the corner of their eyes, watching as the blade slipped through, only to be dropped by shaky fingers with a quiet clatter.  
A sob torn from the throat, water running, yet the pain simply joined the ebb of nothing. Soon to be numb once more. 

Wound and wound their arm covered in a safe layer of thick white bandage soon to be stained red.  
A long sleeve shirt, baggy, tugged down around the fingers. 

Back in bed, the phone screen was the only light, passing through feeds, images, thoughts. Eventually, it was too much, the phone tossed aside. Curled up into sheets. Eyes piercing through the darkness, in search of peace. 

Sometimes it would take only minutes to find the clutches of slumber, others it would avoid them for hours, and on rare unfortunate occasions, it would simply never come. 

Sometimes. Days were easy. 

Sometimes. They were empty.


End file.
